


Switch

by ollipop



Series: Please receive me on my feet [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollipop/pseuds/ollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you want from me, Dono?"</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Philomytha and Raspberryhunter for beta!

Olivia Koudelka smoothed her hair back one more time before she walked into Vorkosigan House for Miles’ dinner party. She knew (since Tatya had said that René said By said) that Donna had returned from Beta, and would be there tonight with Ivan. Tatya had shared this by way of warning to Olivia; she was still the only friend on Olivia’s side who had been privy to Donna and Olivia’s affair, and its most recent break six months ago. When Tatya and René arrived, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever was going to happen tonight, at least she wouldn’t be all alone.   
  
She was talking with Tatya when she heard Ivan’s name, and turned to find him next to a slim dark-haired man. “Where’s Donna?” Olivia murmured.   
  
“Fashionably late?” said Tatya.   
  
For a moment, Olivia hoped that perhaps Ivan had been stood up and brought this colleague instead. Then she watched the stranger turn back, listening to a comment between Ivan and Miles, and the bottom dropped out of Olivia’s stomach as she recognized the curve of Donna’s neck.   
  
Lady Alys, looking entirely unruffled, brought the gentleman over. Per protocol, Alys began the introductions by bringing Dono to Mrs. Koudelka. Dono made a great show of bowing and kissing each hand, remarking on a new hairstyle, a remembered comment, to ease each person into the shift of his new identity.   
  
Alys seemed less amused by the irony in her task. “Lord Dono Vorrutyer, Miss Olivia Koudelka,” she intoned blandly.   
  
Lord Dono bowed to Olivia just briefly, but his eyes locked onto hers and his hand--Donna’s hand--gripped hers with no trace of theatrics. “Charmed, as always.” Olivia stared, frozen, as Dono moved smoothly over to Kareen. Olivia struggled to track the conversation that followed.   
  
Kareen seemed to take sympathy on Dono and broke the ice. “If I’d known you were on Beta, I’d have sent a message.”   
  
“And I would have been glad of it; I got quite nostalgic for Barrayar by the end of my trip. Most of the Betans I encountered looked at me like I was not quite there, which dragged the psych profiling out an extra week. Then when they discovered what I was trying to do, they offered me asylum on Beta Colony.”   
  
“I think that most Barrayarans will approach you the same way,” Kareen returned. Dono gave her a sardonic smile.   
  
“Yes, but at least they won’t be wearing sarongs.”     
  
Olivia began an inventory of the man’s features: the aquiline nose, warm brown eyes, and slim hands were all quite familiar.  Hair close-cropped to the nape of his neck, broad shoulders, hips narrowed and flattened, with that beautiful curve of waist gone--Olivia realized that she was staring at Dono’s belt only when Martya pinched her arm and glared. Olivia tried to edge out of the group but couldn’t find an inconspicuous retreat. She glanced over to Ivan beseechingly, but he only looked sullen and headed for the wine.   
  
  
+++

  
As dinner finally ended, Olivia noted grimly that at least she wasn’t the only one having a rough night. She begged Mama to let her go home with Tatya, knowing that she wouldn’t be missed in the rout that was about to follow.  
  
Before they could make it to the groundcar, however, Dono slipped in next to René and begged a ride back to Vorrutyer House. Tatya rolled her eyes at Olivia; she’d never wanted the political duties of a Countess. At the moment, Olivia could hardly bring herself to care.    
  
As they piled into the car, Dono met Olivia’s eyes briefly and nodded, maddeningly, as if she had invited him. Then he began an easy conversation on the motivations of the Conservative Party, and René instructed their driver to head for Vorbretten House first. Olivia sank back in the cushions, planning an excuse about too much wine. However, the men (the men!) didn’t seem to pay much notice to either of them. Typically, Olivia basked in this type of inattention; Donna would make a habit of appearing deeply absorbed in social events, before slipping into a corner to whisper endearments into Olivia’s ear. Tonight, Olivia didn’t want to play hide-and-seek. She just wanted to avoid Donna.  
  
Tatya and Olivia made it up to the third floor library before Olivia began weeping in earnest.  
  
“What happened to her? I never would have guessed.”  
  
Tatya shrugged, discomfited. “You couldn’t have known. Nobody knew. It’s a political thing.” Tatya had never understood Olivia and Donna’s affair, though she loved her friend enough to tolerate it. “Isn’t this a good thing, anyway?”  
  
“How?” said Olivia.  
  
“Well, he could court you now, for one thing. In public.”  
  
Tatya had wanted her married for the last three years, Olivia thought. She wanted a confederate. “I don’t want to be courted. I don’t want to be pretty for someone.”  
  
“Well, you could argue in public, too. Even that would be an improvement.” Hearing no defense from Olivia, Tatya softened and tried a different approach. “But you did want to be pretty for Donna. What’s the difference?”  
  
“The difference was, that was just the two of us.” Olivia remembered Donna brushing out her hair like a handmaiden, leaning Olivia back across the bed to get her dress laced just so, before sitting down to dinner at Vorrutyer House. Donna had always insisted on proper dress, even if the underthings never lasted through dessert.  
  
“Olivia, it’s really not so bad. He’s still the same person. Didn’t you tell me yourself it didn’t really matter that Donna was a woman?”  
  
“If she were a man then there would have been more talk. There would have been questions; we would have had to turn it into something respectable.”  
  
“I doubt a Vorrutyer could ever be considered respectable, no matter the gender. Even if wholesome Miss Koudelka were standing alongside.”  
  
At that moment René walked in, yawning loudly. He’d been skittish around Olivia ever since he found out about the affair a year ago. Olivia wondered whether René was worried about her running off with his wife, or whether he was worried about what stories Donna might have told on him. Olivia usually had at least one sister along to chaperone, these days, so it hardly mattered either way.  
  
“Dono just tried to win me over for the council. Apparently he believes I’ll still have a vote in a month’s time,” René summarized.  
  
Tatya looked up at him, trusting. “Do you think he has a chance?”  
  
“About as much as I do.”  
  
Olivia heard the bitterness René’s voice. She wiped her face and rose to leave them alone.    
  
Outside the door to Vorbretten House, Olivia found Dono leaning against the arched doorway and staring out into the cool night air. He turned to her and bowed. Olivia hesitated, then took the opposite side of the arch.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you,” Dono said finally.  
  
Olivia shrugged. “You couldn’t have told anyone. I’m sure that Richars was working overtime to try to figure out where you had gone.”  
  
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you after the Winterfair ball. I didn’t know if you would want to hear from me at that point.”  
  
“Didn’t want to hear from you?” Olivia said. “Whatever gave you that idea?”  
  
“You’d been gone for months. It’s not as if you called, my dear.”  
  
“What were you thinking, Donna?”  
  
“I’m not Donna anymore.”  
  
“I noticed,” Olivia growled.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Olivia said nothing, and put her chin up to try to slow her tears. Would it have been different, if they had still been together when Pierre died? She’d known that Donna had taken another lover, and it had been surprisingly easy to lose contact after a few resolute weeks when Olivia hadn’t returned Donna’s messages. Olivia wondered what would have happened if she’d contacted Donna earlier, if she could have changed Donna’s mind, stopped this... destruction.  
  
 _Who was this man?_  
  
“Szabo will be coming by in a few minutes. Let me take you home.”    
  
“I can take an auto-cab.”  
  
“Of course you can, but this will be more pleasant. There will be so many trials over the next few weeks, don’t you think it will be easier to take care of ourselves where we can?”  
  
“There must have been some other way to do this. You can’t just expect that you can leave for a season and come back and be... male. And have people treat you seriously.”  
  
Dono’s eyes flashed, finally. “How would I have done it, otherwise? One of the armsmen wanted me to have a baby, and put all the District plans on hold for fifteen years. Another had already recruited a bravo to put Richars out of the running, and give the District to some lad for me to “supervise”. For the last ten years I’ve been running the show from someone else’s office. I’m not going to be a ventriloquist anymore. I need this.”   
  
“This was the best option? Really?”  
  
“I need other people to look at me and see a man.”   
  
“Fine. Be a man. Then what will you want from me,  _Dono_? ” Olivia drew out his name sarcastically.  
  
Lord Dono sighed. “I need all the support I can get. Could I have yours?” He faltered a moment. “I missed you.”  
  
Olivia turned her back to him. Dono reached out and gently took her shoulder; Olivia felt a shiver run down her back and across her hips. She could remember Donna taking the end of her hair and winding it around her wrist to draw Olivia towards her; instead, Dono turned her gently and braced her at arm’s length. Olivia reached up to his arm and felt corded muscle instead of soft flesh.  
  
“You expect me to think you’re the same?”  
  
“I’m not the same at all. But you’re still dear to me, and I’d like to hope I can hold your friendship, even without my feminine wiles.” Dono let himself smirk, at that; his warm brown eyes finally lit up and one brow quirked at her. Olivia smiled helplessly, and felt herself soften. She’d finally taken a breath and leaned in towards Dono when the groundcar pulled up.  
  
Szabo stepped out and made to hand Olivia into the groundcar without a word. Dono followed her in, and leaned forward to ask, “Come back with me?”   
  
Olivia just shook her head no. Dono passed the word to Szabo, and Pierre’s groundcar stopped a modest half block from the Koudelka residence, just as usual.   
  
+++  
  
The heavy planked door leading to Vorrutyer House creaked open and Olivia hurried across the cobblestones and up the granite staircase. Dono’s odd invitation, that he had a task that she “might find interesting,” had been delivered totally deadpan. That was the first thing that had put Olivia on the defensive. Lady Donna had never been one to let the chance for a suggestive comment pass her by.  
  
Szabo showed her all the way up to the attics. She found Dono, in shirtsleeves, nested among old trunks, crystal ornaments, and rolled tapestries. “Livi, thanks. I didn’t feel quite up to doing this by myself.”  
  
“And ‘this’ is what?” Olivia picked her way gingerly past half-open boxes, some of which were labeled BY, others DISTRICT.  
  
“There are a few things up here I’d like to move someplace safe. I can’t take too much away, so I just need to talk it through with someone.”  
  
“Where’s it going?”  
  
“Byerly’s flat.”  
  
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “And you think that’s safer than Vorrutyer House? With the company he keeps?”  
  
“It will be, if Richars holds the countship. Byerly is also the one who will know where to find me if that happens. If you were to want to find me, that is.”    
  
Olivia knew that this was a practical concern, but her stomach clenched nonetheless. “We can help you. My family will.”  
  
“With the attics?” Dono lifted an eyebrow and rose, dusting a cobweb off his trousers.  
  
“With the campaigning. Delia can--”  
  
“Wouldn’t that be contingent on Vorkosigan’s vote? I need to secure him, first.”  
  
“They know that the two of us were friends. Are friends.”  
  
Dono gave her a disbelieving look and reached a hand to the side of her neck, tipping Olivia’s chin upward. Olivia felt her breath catch. “Do they, really?”  
  
“Well, not exactly like that.”  
  
Olivia’s pulse quickened under Dono’s touch, and he smiled mirthlessly before releasing her. “No matter, my dear. Your help is quite enough, just at the moment. Now come over here--I’ve got enough relics to keep you fascinated for days, here.”  
  
He kept his tone light and professional as he described the items he was looking for, and spared them both any more physical contact. Olivia found Countess Lillith’s old Vorfemme knife in a cradle under a pile of candlesticks, as well as a tiny clock and a cracked glass bell. While Dono was sifting through parchments, she noticed a pile of torches, swords, and pikes. She hefted a sword experimentally, and began to run through practice forms in one corner of the room.  
  
“Your warrior is showing, dear.”   
  
Olivia turned back towards Dono. Though she blushed slightly, she kept the weapon still hanging loose in her grip. “If it had been anyone but Richars, would you have blocked the succession?”  
  
Dono sighed. “You mean if it had been Pierre’s non-existent son? If it had been Ges Vorrutyer, still alive, less sadistic?”    
  
“If it hadn’t been the man who hurt you. Are you trying to hurt him back?”  
  
“I don’t need to hurt him, just this year. I have work to do.”   
  
“Want me to hurt him, for you?”  
  
“Oh, my dear. Thank you.” Dono smiled, some of the tension lifting off his shoulders. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
+++  
  
Five nights later, Olivia and Dono sat down to dinner after turning over the last of the packages to Byerly. By had gotten Olivia to commit to dinner and then excused himself--probably to meet one of his disreputable friends, Olivia thought. Dono was detailing his most recent meeting with René and Miles, and their further plans to preach to the unconverted.  
  
“Miles is going after all these votes as a frontal attack--war by other means, and all that?--but it’s a slog. I’m trying to convince the two of them that it’s time to start distracting the opposition, but I think I’ll be working alone, there.”  
  
“You think that you’ll manage to get anyone distracted from you? Or from René? It would take quite the scandal.”  
  
Dono’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I’ll be doing them a favor in the end. After I’m confirmed, they won’t have to deal with the awkwardness of having voted against me.” He grew a shade more serious. “Either way, I’m grateful for your help on this. Yours and your family’s.”  
  
Olivia looked away awkwardly. “It’s nothing, really.”  
  
“On the contrary, it’s everything.” He was entirely focused on Olivia now, his meal forgotten. He wore the same penetrating gaze that Lady Donna had always used on her; Olivia had always felt like Donna could read her mind. Lord Dono, she realized, had been doing her the courtesy of looking away, pretending that he couldn’t see right through her.  
  
“What do you want from me, Dono?”  
  
He dropped his stare and tried to pick up the banter he’d achieved previously. “Well, if my vote passes, I’ll be in want of a wife. Do you care to take the job?”  
  
She stared at him, and then burst into laughter. “Dono, be serious!”  
  
Dono sat back and smiled ruefully. “Well, there’s plenty of time for that later. If not, perhaps you could help me plan the wedding? I did always love a good wedding.”


End file.
